


The Words Inside Me

by Tish



Category: BoJack Horseman
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 02:31:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5112956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tish/pseuds/Tish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Diane ponders her life's worth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Words Inside Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wellexcuuuuuseme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wellexcuuuuuseme/gifts).



Diane stared at the white screen, cursor blinking patiently, waiting for the words to come. She placed her fingers upon the keys, feeling the raised notch on the 'j' key. She gave it a quick rub, just for luck, then did the same on the 'f' key. She looked around the room, eyes searching for words that lay hidden in the wall's paintwork, or in the carpet's maze-like puzzle. If she squinted just so, she knew she'd find the words.

The screen lay blank, the laptop's fan gave a quick burst, then became silent. Diane sighed, then crumpled her face into her hands, tears at the corner of her eyes. “Why can't I do this? I'm a writer, a good one.”

Pushing back from the desk, she groaned to herself as she saw the time. “How long will this block last? I know the words are in me, how do I let them out?”

She walked outside to the garden, the warm breeze softly whispering in the palm trees like it was telling her all the secrets of the world. Birds flew overhead and carried her words with them, stealing them away.

She spoke up to a cloud. “This is who I am, a writer. The words have to be inside me, but they're not.” She thought of Mr. Peanutbutter and his puppy-dog smile, his boundless enthusiasm, and his eternal optimism. She pondered his endless devotion for her, and how he could always see the sunshine through the rain.

She watched a cloud scuttle across the sun and thought of her own inadequacies, her self-doubts, her inability to just write. Turning from the sun, she blinked away tears, a purple retina burn image of the sun and the cloud jumping behind her eyes as she squeezed them shut.

She heaved a shuddering sigh and marched back inside to the computer. She knew the ideas she wanted to convey, she knew the background information, and she knew the argument she wanted to present. Word by word, sentence by sentence, paragraph by paragraph she wrote, pouring herself into every moment.

A crick in her neck made her stop and look about in the lowering light. She looked at the cursor blinking at the end of the page, and noted the numbers of pages she'd written. The auto save kicked in again and she nodded to herself. “That'll do for a first draft. Recharge, then go at it later. I'm a writer, this is me.”


End file.
